That's what you get
by EJML-Isotope
Summary: Hovering over him, Stiles leans close and tilts his head invitingly to the side. "Am I good kisser? Is that why you want to kiss me so much?" Derek looks up at him with blown pupils and messy hair, and Stiles feels his stomach flutter. "You're alright," he answers, hot hands sliding up Stiles's thighs. In which Stiles can't sleep and Derek takes it upon himself to help him. ONESHOT


**Written for Insomnia-calling, and all the other Sterek fans out there!**

It's two AM and Stiles has been lying awake for the past three hours trying desperately to get to sleep. He's exhausted, working ten till four and then having to complete a ton of homework will do that to you. And here he was thinking the school holidays were supposed to be relaxing. He wriggles, legs jumping under the covers.

Why can't he just _sleep_?

"Stiles." Derek grumbles. "Stop moving."

"Sorry, sorry!" Stiles apologises.

Derek is getting grumpier and grumpier as the minutes tick by, and if Stiles was being fair he couldn't blame him. He was constantly kicking or elbowing Derek accidently awake.

Five minutes ticked by, and Stiles scrunches his eyes shut tight before opening them with a sigh. He rolls onto his side and then back again.

"_Stiles._" Derek growls, rolling over so that he was also on his back. "Go to sleep."

"I can't!" Stiles wails. "Don't you think I would if I could? I'm _exhausted_- I'd love to sleep." He bangs the mattress in frustration, the springs protesting squeakily.

"It's easy; you just close your eyes, lie _still _and breathe."

"Oh shut up." Stiles snips. "I know I'm being a pain. I know I'm keeping you awake. I _know_ alright? In fact, I'll just go sleep downstairs or something." He moves to throw the covers back and a blast of cold air hits his bare chest and legs.

He grits his teeth and lies back down, curling ever-so-slightly closer to Derek's heat. "Okay," he grinds out. "I'm not leaving, but I'll stop moving."

Derek sighs impatiently but he rolls onto his side and shuffles closer, wrapping an arm around a rigid Stiles. He throws a leg over Stiles own and pulls Stiles close.

Stiles refuses to relax in Derek's arms so Derek nuzzles his shoulder and breathes sleepily (talk about shoving it in Stiles's face, _God_ Derek), "The reason you can't sleep is because you're so tense. Relax; let your mind unwind."

"I can't relax." Stiles retorts.

"You're not trying." Derek parries. He mouths along Stiles's jaw and murmurs, "Think about something else."

Sighing, Stiles turns his head to meet Derek's searching lips. "Are you trying to distract me?"

"Am I distracting?"

Stiles suddenly feels very insignificant lying next to Derek. Ducking his head under Derek's chin he barely mumbles, "Very distracting."

Derek, with his stupid werewolf powers detects the change in Stiles's heartbeat and his hand tightens on his hip. "What is it?"

"What's what?" Stiles whispers, swallowing down the horrible thought that Derek already knows.

"You're…nervous."

"Am not," Stiles disagrees, feeling for himself his heart stutter over the lie.

"You can't lie to me."

After a minute of silence, where Stiles sort of tightens in Derek's grip but doesn't attempt to pull away, Derek begins to rub soothing circles over Stiles's hip. "What is it?"

"Nothing. I just… you don't have to try to distract me with…like, you know, _this. _We could just talk."

"Talk?" Derek snorts.

"Just give me something else to think about. Like a thought."

Stiles cringes into the silence that follows, but Derek simply wraps his arms tighter round him and noses his way along Stiles's neck in thought.

It feels too insightful, too obvious, embarrassingly so, and Stiles desperately racks his brain for a sensible way to change the topic.

He is aiming for subtle but he ends up awkwardly trying to roll away from Derek. It doesn't work, because Derek and his stupid powers of anticipation have been expecting the move and he simply raises his arm to cage Stiles back against his body.

"What, can you smell my thoughts now too?" Stiles snipes, a little more snark than necessary saturating his voice.

"Stiles," Derek chides, chuckling once in his ear. "Seriously- you're going to pick a fight now?"

"Well what else is there to do?"

"Uh," Derek drawls. "Sleep…or let me kiss you…or if that's out of the question too then at least look at me while we _talk_."

Stiles huffs and squirms uncomfortably. "Derek!" he whines.

Stubble scratches his cheek and the familiar feel of it comforts him slightly. Lips barely brush his cheek as Derek mimics the tone, "_Stiles_."

God, what is he, like _five_?

Stiles takes a deep breath.

Gathering confidence from the idea of how damn smug he'll feel if he gets Derek to shut up and be the one taunting rather than taunted, he pushes up onto his hands and swings a leg over Derek's hips, forcing him to lie flat on his back.

Hovering over him, Stiles leans close and tilts his head invitingly to the side. "Am I good kisser? Is that why you want to kiss me so much?"

Derek looks up at him with blown pupils and messy hair, and Stiles feels his stomach flutter. "You're alright," he answers, hot hands sliding up Stiles's thighs.

Stiles raises an eyebrow. "Alright?"

Derek smirks and props himself up onto his elbows. "I lie, you're not bad."

Stiles brushes his lips with Derek's teasingly. "You're good." Another touch, this one longer. "Great." Lips mould together, giving and taking in turn. "Excellent."

Minutes pass and Derek pulls away to run his nose along Stiles' jaw. "I can never understand why you feel so self-conscious all the time."

Stiles drops forward to nestle his face into Derek's neck. "I'm me." It's a pitiful mumble.

Derek laughs. "Exactly."

Stiles feels his lips stretch into a grin despite his better judgement. "Goodnight Derek."

"Oh, tired are we?"

"Shut up."

Stiles shakes gently on Derek's chest as he laughs, clearly self-satisfied. "Goodnight Stiles."

**Thanks for reading! **


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